


Cookies & Cream

by aerpocket2020



Category: Knives Out
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Cutefirstmeetingmaybe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerpocket2020/pseuds/aerpocket2020
Summary: Marta's new neighbour is not very nice.No! His abs don't make up for how much of an asshole he is!...Maybe
Relationships: Marta Cabrera & Ransom Drysdale, Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 15
Kudos: 88





	1. Salty Caramel

Marta thinks she should be neighbourly and bring the cranky old grandpa in the apartment down the hall some cookies. She heard him in there once, swearing like a sailor. She’d seen him leave a couple of times in a fancy town car with a driver (what he’s doing in this apartment building if he's got such a nice car she has no idea). She hopes he isn’t like Mrs Kelvin upstairs, who is about as nice as a hatchet. 

She mostly works nights at the hospital. So she hasn’t really met a lot of her neighbours since moving in. It’s actually pretty exciting that she can finally afford her own place. And it’s walking distance from work! Too bad she isn’t home long enough to enjoy her new place much. 

When she finally has a Saturday off she makes a batch of oversize salted caramel cookies (ones her sister loved) and walks down the corridor to knock on the door. The little plaque beside it says ‘H. Drysdale’, there’s some seriously loud classic rock coming from the inside and Marta has a brief thought that maybe Senor Drsydale is cool enough to enjoy rock music he probably won’t get cranky when she’s trying to be nice. 

The door opens and Marta almost chokes on her tongue. 

“Yes?”

The apartment’s occupant seems cranky alright, but he’s not old. He’s young and blue eyed and very handsome. 

Marta almost drops her cookies. 

“Hola,” she squeaks holding the cookies up higher in his line of sight, like maybe they’ll absorb some of his sex appeal so it’ll stop affecting her. “I’m-I’m Marta Cabrera. I live down the hall.” She gestured vaguely in her apartment’s direction. 

The guy’s brow furrows for a moment. “Hugh,” he says. Then he glances between her and the cookies. “And you made me these cookies?” 

“Yes,” she says, sort of moving them up and down a little. “They’re salted caramel.” 

He blinks, making his eyelashes flutter.  _ Ay Dios Mio! _

“I don’t eat sugar.” 

“Oh that’s-,” the door closes in her face. “An asshole.” she mutters. 

She goes home and eats all the cookies herself. So much for being neighbourly. 

It’s easy to avoid Hugh after that. 

She doesn’t see him again until a couple of weeks later when the fire alarm goes off in the building. She grabs her cat and knocks on her neighbours’ doors. She knocks on Hugh’s door too, but he doesn’t answer. 

She briefly debates letting him die a slow, fiery death. 

Eventually her conscience wins out and she tries the door which is unlocked. 

“Mr Drysdale!” she calls urgently, cradling a squirming Mr Stuffles to her chest. “Mr Drysdale, there’s a fire!” 

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” 

She turns abruptly and finds Hugh standing behind her shirtless, pulling his headphones out of one ear. He’s sweaty and very sexy so Marta’s even more annoyed at him. “Who said you could just walk in?”

“There’s a fire in the building,” she snaps angrily, satisfied to see him look surprised. “So, unless you want to get burned to a crisp-” 

Hugh nods quickly, grabbing a sweater and his phone and laptop and hurrying out of the building with her.

Fortunately the fire isn’t too bad. They wind up standing side by side while the fire department makes quick work of putting out the blaze that started from Mrs Fratelli’s stove upstairs and fortunately only damaged her countertops and some of her balcony. 

“Sooo,” he drawls, hands tucked into his pockets, while Marta looks up at her building and pointedly avoids looking at him. “I think we may have got off on the wrong foot. I’m Rans-”

“I’m sorry,” Marta snaps, glaring at him. “Were you saying something?” 

She walks away from him. Which is actually very enjoyable to watch.  


His new, nosy (well-meaning, he realizes) neighbor is very hot. 

And she’s got a nice ass. 


	2. Fancy stationery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta gets cookies and a very old fashioned apology.

Marta finally has time to get dressed up in her good black dress and strappy heels and go to dinner with some friends. And because she’s a klutz and a little tipsy she winds up tripping and falling in the apartment complex foyer when she’s on her way back home.

For a minute she just lays there. Her face, chin and jaw don’t hurt so she must be okay. There’s a slight sting she feels on her left knee, but it probably isn’t that bad. 

She’s giving herself a minute to sort of enjoy the floor that has so lovingly embraced her when the main door opens and a big, hulking shadow falls over her. 

“Marta?” Hugh Drysdale sounds concerned for an asshole. “Are you okay?” 

Fuck! 

He hurries around to give her a hand while she pushes herself off the floor. 

They’re nice hands, Marta thinks irritably. Big and calloused and very warm, and attached to a man who is obviously corded with muscles. 

“I’m fine.” Marta insists, just to be petulant, while he practically hoists her easily to her feet, because getting up in heels is surprisingly difficult. 

“Sure you are,” he chuckles, brushing off the hem of her dress. “That looks pretty bad.” 

Marta glances down to see that there’s an angry looking scrape on her knee. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” She brushes off. 

He squints at her, he’s in a soft blue sweater and grey trousers, like something out of a GQ photoshoot, “And you say this with the certainty of a medical professional?” 

“Yes,” Marta says, completely deadpan. “I’m an ER nurse.” 

She has the satisfaction of watching a small chagrined look cross his face, he jams his hands in his pockets and gives her a faint smile, “This would explain why you’re coming and going at such weird hours.” 

Marta rolls her eyes at his back when he bends to pick up her fallen purse. 

“Thank you,” She says, genuinely grateful when he hands it back to her. “For helping me up. Good night Mr Drysdale.” 

He gives her a sedate nod. 

She halfway up the stairs, shoes in her hand when he calls her name from the bottom of the staircase. 

She turns, a little annoyed, what could this gringo possibly want now?

He’s staring up at her, doing a good impression of looking very earnest, “It’s Ransom.” 

“Perdon?” 

“Call me Ransom, it's my middle name.” He goes on, still smiling. “No one really calls me ‘Hugh.” 

Ay Dios Mio! Is this his way of trying to be cordial? 

It’s underwhelming. 

“Okay, Ransom.Nice meeting you” she smiles back, polite and completely insincere. “Well, good night.” She scurries up the stairs back to her apartment, closing the door behind her firmly. 

She tosses her shoes into one corner of the living room and stretches ‘til her back cracks a little. 

_ What kind of name is ‘Ransom’, anyway? _

She’s a little hungover the next morning, but it’s Sunday so she makes herself some pancakes and is pouring milk for Mr Stuffles when her doorbell rings. 

She goes to answer it but no one is there on the other side, she’s about to close the door when she sees the little basket of fancy looking cookies on the welcome mat. 

There’s a small note attached, on pretty vintage looking stationery with very loopy dramatic handwriting. 

_ Marta, _

_ I didn’t make these. I bought them and they probably aren’t as good as the ones you made. I’m really sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me for how I acted.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Ransom.  _

_ (PS. I love cookies. I was lying about not eating sugar.) _

She clutches it to her chest for a moment, glancing at his closed door before closing hers quickly. 

Damnit! These cookies and especially the note are actually pretty smooth. 

It's actually, well, kind of sexy.

Making her picture those broad shoulders hunched over while he wrote that note.

Now how is she supposed to keep being mad at him? 


	3. Dinner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the almost last chapter. Don't forget to leave a review. The last one is going to be some very delicate smut. Be kind! Reviews are love and give me life.

The little note goes up on the fridge and Marta will sometimes glance at it when she’s eating or grabbing something to drink.

_ ‘Yours, _

_ Ransom’  _

She’s berating herself for how those words make her shiver. It’s something most people write on thank you notes. And he probably has a million girls on rotation. 

Marta  _ knows, okay? _

__ He has that  _ vibe.  _

Over the next couple of weeks little gifts appear either taped to the front door or left on her doorstep. There’s the fancy coffee powder with the little note on the same stationery that reads, ‘ _ You seem like a coffee kind of girl.’  _

A couple of days later a bar of really expensive orgasm inducing sea salt chocolate. The note on this one reads, ‘ _ Want to get breakfast sometime???’  _

She kind of does...but also not!

So she continues avoiding him. This time out of some sort of blushing, school-girl crush. 

Because yes that’s what this is. 

A crush. 

Because he’s hot and his handwriting is beautiful. 

She keeps the presents though, it seems rude to return them. (She also has a massive sweet tooth.)

She can’t dodge him forever. Particularly one weekend when the power goes out. 

She groans aloud and searches for a flashlight. When she does find one she decides to make a trip down to the fuse box and runs into Ransom. 

“Oh hi!” He says holding the storm lantern up to his face. “Fancy meeting you down here.” 

Ransom beams when he sees her. He’s in sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt that looks like it’s screaming for help. (That’s how broad he is. Like a goddamn superhero.) 

“Did you check the fuse?” Marta asks. 

“Yeah it’s down all along the street.” 

There’s a roll of thunder that makes Marta jump.

“ It’s probably the storm,” she sighs. “I’m gonna have to sit in the dark all night.” 

Ransom’s smile is very sly, “You can borrow my lantern.” 

“Then what will you do?” 

“I’ve got a spare,” he tilts his head for her to follow him up the stairs and Marta does. 

She’s already in trouble. She can tell.

“Did you like the coffee?”, he asks letting them into his apartment. 

Marta sees no sense in lying, “Yes, I did. Thank you.” 

“I’m glad,” he directs her to sit down on a very comfortable looking couch and goes to the next room. 

“By the way,” he calls from out of earshot. “I never got a response.” 

Marta turns to watch him walk back into the room with the extra lantern under his arm, “What response?” 

“About breakfast.” 

He’s grinning at her and holding the lantern just out of reach that she has to move into his space a little to get it. 

“Oh, I’m usually asleep when most people are having breakfast.” 

“Oh, right” he pulls the lantern out of reach again. “You’re a nurse.” 

Marta drops her hands out of frustration, “Look do you not want to lend me the lantern or something?” 

“Or something more like it,” Ransom is grinning. He holds it even higher and Marta tries not to notice, even in the low light, how massive his biceps are. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” 

“I’m not avoiding you.” Marta is all wide-eyed and innocent. 

There are a bunch of lit candles over the fireplace and the storm lantern. She can see the blue of his eyes and the sharp cut of his jawline. 

He sets the lantern down on a nearby table, “You’re lucky you’re so cute. You can be very aggravating.”

“Ha! Coming from the guy who was rude when all I wanted was to give you free cookies.”

Ransom chuckles. It’s low and rich and makes a heat pool in her belly. “You got me there. Which makes it even more important that I make it upto you with breakfast or dinner. But preferably dinner, which goes so well it turns  _ into  _ breakfast.”

Marta’s eyes almost bug out of her head. “E-excuse me?”

“You heard me.” 

“Huh?” she’s a little stunned. Folding her arms across her chest this way and that because she’s only in a thin t-shirt. 

_ Her nipples are not getting hard!  _

_ They’re not!  _

_ What the hell kind of flirting is this? _

“I work nights,” she says. 

“You’re not working right now.” 

She nearly gives herself a headache trying not to smile. 

“I made mac and cheese,” Ransom says, enticingly. “With bacon.”

“Are there vegetables in it?”

“No, of course not.” he scoffed. “What kind of fool do you take me for?”

Marta gives up. She makes a noise of assent and Ransom reaches for her hand. 

“Come on,” he says, big warm fingers tangling with her smaller, more delicate ones. “I’ll pour you a glass of wine too.”

“How are we supposed to eat in the dark?” 

Really the fact that he had a bunch of candlesticks and mounted candles just laying around in his dining room proves that he’s a man-whore. 

But they look brand new so obviously he hasn’t got the chance to do much manwhoring. 

He sets a glass down in front of her and pops the cork on a bottle of expensive looking wine. 

“That’s enough,” Marta squeaks when he pours her half a glass. 

“So nursing sounds like a pretty rough deal,” he says taking a seat close to her with his own glass. 

“It’s entertaining,” Marta says, the wine is crisp and rich. “But it’s hardly glamorous. What do you do?”

He heaves a long sigh, “I work in publishing. Have you heard of ‘Blood like Wine’?”

Marta nods, “That’s Harlan Thrombey’s publishing company? He’s a crime novelist.”

“He’s my grandfather,” Ransom says, making Marta blink. “I’m supposed to have quit last year but he keeps hounding me with a new project every time.”

“Is that the old man I saw coming out of your apartment the other day?”

“That’s Harlan.”

“It sounds like he wants to keep you around.”

Ransom rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “He’s getting on in years. He needs someone looking out for him. My uncle’s head of the company but all they ever do is argue. It’s hilarious, but it’s getting to him.”

Marta sips her wine and smiles, “Can I meet him when he comes over sometime? I’m kind of a fan.”

Ransom smirks at her, “Little early to be meeting my family isn’t it?” 

Marta gapes at him when he stands to take the mac and cheese off the stove. He brings a plate over for her and they eat in relative silence for a little while. Occasionally asking each other questions. 

Maybe it’s the half glass of wine or the sudden coziness that comes from a good meal, a darkened room and a storm in the distance but she’s enjoying herself in a way she hasn’t in a long time. 

It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome in a way Marta probably dreamed about when she was little. 

“Don’t get up,” he says, taking her plate from her when she’s finished and putting it in the sink. “I’m sorry I don’t have any dessert.”

She doesn’t know what possesses her to say this next but she does: “I think there’s some of that chocolate bar back at my apartment.”

Ransom smiles, “Lead the way.”


	4. Marta takes a lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter!   
> Although I am considering a one shot in this universe where Ransom introduces his new girlfriend to Harlan.   
> Let me know if you you guys would like that!

Ransom grabs the storm lanterns and a few of the candles from his apartment to bring over to hers. She makes a beeline for her fridge so when she’s done rummaging around her kitchen is suffused with a warm golden glow.

She’s a little embarrassed when she stands up holding the chocolate wrapped in tinfoil. Because it was a pretty big bar. And there’s not much of it left.

And he only left it for her like one or two days ago.

Ransom laughs.

Loudly.

“I guess you like this more than the coffee huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she says holding the chocolate up sheepishly between the two of them. “You can have all of it. I’ve eaten most of it already.”

“It’s okay,” he steps a little closer, towering over her in a way that’s overwhelming but not threatening. “I buy these for clients at the publishing company. I’ll get you some more if you want?”

“I don’t think you should,” Marta says. “I mean I don’t know what my teeth and cholesterol are going to look like after this.”

He smiles very warmly, “It’s okay. I mean at least you’re enjoying something. It seems like you’re working all the time.”

Marta blinks at him, “It’s a little hard to find free time.”

“No boyfriend either huh?” His eyes are alight with mischief.

“That- that is none of your business,” Marta laughs huskily.

Nervously.

Her giggling is cut short by Ransom reaching up to cup her face in a grip that’s surprisingly gentle.

“So, listen,” he says, thumb running softly over her full bottom lip. “I’m counting dinner earlier as a first date.”

Marta’s mouth drops slightly, “Oh I don’t think- “

He shushes her, “I’m not asking you to think. I’m saying we had a good time and that you’re busy a lot and it might be difficult for us to spend time together often. And in the interest of full disclosure I’m not the most patient guy on Earth.”

Marta just stares at him. Heart pounding, stomach clenching pleasantly. “So, what are you saying exactly?”

“I’m saying…” one of his hands leaves her face and presses her hip to draw her closer. “That we kiss and see how things go from there.”

“Oh.”

“That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” she breathes eyelids already fluttering shut. “I guess it is.”

“Good,” he says lowly.

And then his mouth is on hers, fingers tangled roughly in her hair and Marta feels hot and trembly all over.

Of course it’s not just one kiss.

One kiss bleeds into two and Ransom makes a low groaning sound when he cups her bottom and presses her into himself.

He’s so warm against her. Marta wants to climb him like a tree and live on his massive biceps.

He only lets up to let her gasp an unsteady breath and kiss his way down her neck.

Marta is so hazy and blissed out she doesn’t notice he’s saying her name until he nips her clavicle, making her squeak.

“Okay,” he says cupping her bottom and urging her to wrap her legs around him. “I don’t think we’re done tonight.”

Marta shakes her head vehemently, lower lip caught enticingly in her teeth. She can’t really talk. The throbbing between her legs is insistent and she’s already wet enough he can probably feel it against his sweatpants.

“I can put you down and go back home,” He offers.

Marta sighs defeated, draping both arms over his shoulders, “I mean I don’t want you to go home…”

“But?”

“But, come on,” she chuckles. “I feel like I should put up like a token protest or something.”

She’s laughing a little now and so is he.

“You can play hard to get tomorrow,” he’s already moving them toward her bedroom. “After that breakfast I promised you. Pancakes okay?”

“Whatever, just kiss me again.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

They tumble to the bed giggling and pulling off clothes.

He’s actually a little rough with her, pinning her beneath him and kissing her hard. Like he’s trying to devour her.

Marta likes this.

She really does.

And he’s got really nice abs and a surprisingly perky butt.

“Baby,” he pants when their furious making out seems to have robbed him of breath and reason. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Marta looks up at him and cups his face, “Me neither.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the weirdest conversation about intercourse she’s ever had, but whatever. He’s stupid hot and seems like he’s super into her so who cares.

Afterwards he lets her lay across his chest and strokes his fingers through her hair. Marta cuddles into him content and sated.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” she asks sleepily.

“Pancakes, just like I said.”

“With blueberries?”

“And homemade whipped cream.”

“Mmmm, I’d love that.” She curls tighter around him and Ransom kisses the top of her head.

“Marta?”

“Hmmm?” He can tell she’s about to fall asleep.

“You might find it a little difficult to get rid of me.”

“That’s okay,” she makes a vague waving gesture with one hand. “You’re cute. I’ll keep you around.”


End file.
